


Keeping Watch

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Eggsy Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:11:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An American Statesman is dead in London, and Merlin asks Eggsy to stand watch over the body until a retrieval team can be sent. Now all Eggsy can think about is that day at the church in Kentucky, and one of the Americans doing the same thing for Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Watch

Eggsy's just leaving the newsagents when Merlin's voice comes over the glasses. "Gawain, report."

Immediately Eggsy stands up straighter, the candy in his hand already forgotten. "I'm here," he says.

"I need you for something," Merlin says. He speaks rapidly, sounding more distraught than Eggsy has heard in quite some time. "We have an agent down, not far from your location."

The words hit him with all the force of a fist. There's a dull roaring in his ears. For a moment he simply shuts down. He can't think of anything, can't even move. At last he whispers, "Who…?" He can't finish the question.

"An American," Merlin replies. "A Statesman agent. He was following a lead for a mission and things went badly. Gawain, I need to know _now_ if you can do this."

Agent down. An American.

A horribly selfish but utterly welcome wave of relief weakens his knees and makes his head drop. It isn't somebody he knows.

"There's a team en route," Merlin says, still speaking quickly, "but the body is in a populated area. I need you to go there now and keep him safe until the team arrives. Can you do that?

And Eggsy can't help it, his fucking brain betrays him. The words Merlin just said echo in his mind, only this time he hears them spoken in an American accent. _We have an agent down. One of the Brits. I need someone to go to Kentucky. South Glade Mission Church. Keep him safe until the team arrives._

The thought of Harry lying there alone beneath the Kentucky sun, some strange agent standing watch over his body, is enough to make Eggsy's stomach twist and heave until he wants to retch.

"Gawain? Eggsy?"

The use of his name is unusual enough that it finally gets his attention. "Yeah," he croaks, "I can do it."

"Good lad," Merlin says. He gives Eggsy the location of the fallen agent's body, and it is indeed close by.

"What about the bloke who killed him?" he asks.

"Don't worry about that," Merlin replies. "Lancelot has it under control. You just get to our man."

"Copy that," Eggsy says numbly, and he starts walking.

****

He finds the dead Statesman right where Merlin said he would be. The body is in an alley between two fairly busy streets; it's inevitable that someone will try to walk through here.

Eggsy is no stranger to dead bodies, but he has to nerve himself up to come close enough to get a good look at the man. His chest feels tight, making him fight for every breath.

It's getting dark out, but he can still see perfectly well. The Statesman agent lies where he fell, on his back, forever staring up at the sky. His hair is almost completely grey. His eyes are open, a slightly darker shade of brown than Harry's. He's wearing a pinstriped suit and the club tie with its rose and white stripe on navy blue. There isn't much blood around the hole in between his eyes.

Shot in the head, of course, just like Harry. The suit would have absorbed any other gunfire. Eggsy stares down at the dead man and wonders if he was the one to get the call from Merlin about Harry. If he was the one who went to the church all those months ago to stand vigil like this.

He'll never know.

The sound of footsteps makes him look up. A teenage girl is headed his way, hoodie covering her hair, a plastic bag in one hand. "You can't come through," he says.

She stops and glares at him. "Why not?"

"Because you can't," Eggsy says in his poshest accent. It's the voice of authority, the one that says he's in charge now.

And it works, thankfully. He has two amnesia darts in his watch, but he'd prefer not to use either one of them. The girl gives him a dirty look, but she turns around and walks back in the direction she came from.

Eggsy waits until she turns down the street and is gone from view before he turns back toward the dead man. It's harder to do this time; he has the horrible thought that while his back was turned, the man's face has changed, that this time when he looks, he's going to see Harry lying there.

But it isn't, of course. It's still the American.

He makes himself step a little closer. He's barely breathing as he carefully leans over until he can be seen in the field of view of the man's glasses.

He doesn't know if anyone is watching. One of the Americans, maybe, a handler like Merlin. Or maybe Merlin himself has a feed. It seems important that he say something now, though. That he acknowledges those silent watchers, whoever they are.

Of course, there might not be anyone watching. Probably there isn't. 

Or maybe there _is_ someone, a young man who's just now realising that the last words he hurled in anger can never be taken back. Maybe there's someone screaming in anguish as his heart breaks and the first tidal wave of grief washes over him.

"I'm sorry," Eggsy says quietly. "I'm so sorry."

He wonders what the man's name is. How old he is. If he has anyone back home.

Not that it matters. The man is dead, either way.

Eggsy turns around again, making sure no one else is trying to cut through the alley to get somewhere. He'll do whatever it takes to keep this man safe from prying eyes, from people who would think they were doing the right thing by calling the police. Once there was someone out there who did this for Harry. It might even have been this man. Whoever he was, Eggsy owes him the same respect now, the same loyalty.

"The retrieval team is just five minutes out," Merlin says in his ear. "You're doing great, Gawain."

Eggsy nods stiffly and checks both ends of the alley.

He can't look at the body again, though. This time he knows for sure that when he does, he won't see the American's face. He'll see Harry.

And he can't deal with that. He just can't.

****

The retrieval team arrives on schedule. One of them clasps Eggsy on the shoulder. "Well done, Gawain," the woman says solemnly. "Thank you."

Eggsy nods and awkwardly backs away. He still can't bring himself to look at the dead man. He knows he should offer to help. But he's just spent the last five minutes counting the seconds under his breath and fighting the terrible urge to turn and look at the fallen agent. If he has to stay here any longer he's going to snap.

"Go on home," Merlin advises in his ear. "You did well, Eggsy. I'm proud of you."

"Glad I could help," he says hoarsely, because he's a gentleman now and gentlemen are always glad to help out.

He walks away quickly and doesn't look back. Nor does he breathe again until he's left the alley behind and he's on the street. He glances at the black cab parked close by and he imagines a similar car pulling into the church car park in Kentucky, some Statesman agent getting out and walking over to where Harry lay so still.

His stomach heaves and this time there's no stopping it. He turns on his heel and braces himself with one hand on the side of the nearest building and is violently sick. Tears burn the backs of his eyes and he feels cold all over.

"Gawain? Are you all right?"

Eggsy stands up straight and rubs at his mouth. "Yeah," he says. "Signing off now." He doesn't wait for Merlin to acknowledge; just yanks the glasses off and shoves them in his pocket.

He walks for a few blocks, moving aimlessly, no real destination in mind. He wonders if the retrieval team has left yet, if the Americans know one of their agents is dead, if Roxy has caught the son of a bitch who killed him. He thinks about how bright and sunny it was that day in Kentucky, the opposite of everything it should have been.

Eventually he finds himself on a main road, where he hails a cab and climbs in eagerly. He gives the driver his address and tips his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. He craves a hot shower and some very strong alcohol. He can feel himself shaking all over, but he's powerless to make himself stop.

He's still barely holding it together when the cab pulls up to the house. He pays the driver without even looking at the man, then climbs out. He can hear JB barking excitedly, but for once the sound doesn't make him smile.

He lets himself in and slumps against the closed door at his back. He closes his eyes against the sting of sudden tears. He can't cry. He won't cry. Not yet.

JB barks at him again, and Eggsy opens his eyes. He looks around at the house that has been his home for the past six months. Everywhere he looks he sees signs of life: the empty glasses left on the kitchen counter, the dog leash hanging beside the door, yesterday's post tossed carelessly on the dining room table, the dark blue tie draped over the bannister.

Slowly he heads up the stairs. He walks into the office, where he once sat and watched his world fall apart around him. He wonders about the young American, the one who saw the whole thing happen but was helpless to do anything about it, the one who probably -– hopefully -– only exists in Eggsy's imagination.

He doesn't get far before warm arms encircle him and hold him close. "Eggsy."

"I guess you heard," he says, and then he finally lets himself cry.

"I'm so sorry," Harry says. One hand rubs Eggsy's back. "But you did very well."

He nods, and clings to Harry and cries silently. He feels small and embarrassed, but he can't stop seeing the man lying there in the alley. He can't stop thinking about that day in Kentucky, and the Kingsman agent who was sent to stand watch over Harry's body -– only to discover that he was still alive.

Whoever is waiting back at home for the dead American, there will be no miracle for them.

"Sorry," he mumbles. He pulls away so he can wipe at his eyes. "Fucking stupid."

Harry presses a kiss to his forehead. "Not at all," he says. "It's a terrible thing."

Eggsy nods, unable to say anything else just yet.

Without a word, Harry slides an arm around his shoulders and guides him from the office and down the hall to their bedroom. Eggsy follows without protest, willingly giving himself over to Harry's hands. He lets Harry remove his shoes and his tie, and when Harry suggests some tea, he nods a little.

The moment Harry leaves, Eggsy gets up and goes into the loo. He washes his face and hands and takes the suit off with trembling hands. He lets it all fall to the floor, jacket and shirt and trousers. He doesn't care about any of it. He doesn't want to be a Kingsman anymore today.

He doesn't want to be the kind of man who keeps watch over his fallen colleagues.

He pulls on his favorite tracksuit, worn out but still warm, then lies down and curls up on the bed. He buries his face in the pillow. He knows he'll dream about it tonight, the violence in the church, that single gunshot under the Kentucky sun. He'll wake up shaking and crying, and Harry will reach for him in the dark, and he'll feel along the scar on Harry's skin, needing the physical reassurance, the proof of life.

But tomorrow morning he'll wake up like he does every other day, with Harry lying beside him, the grey early morning light just starting to slide up the walls of their room. Because he got the miracle. He got the second chance. He got to take the ugly words and replace them with the only words that matter.

He looks up as Harry walks in, teacup in hand. He watches Harry set the cup on the nightstand, then look down at him.

Eggsy can't meet his gaze. He doesn't want any tea. He doesn't know what he wants. He feels cold and humiliated and stupidly close to tears again.

Harry makes a quiet humming noise, the sound he makes when he's made a decision. He walks around the foot of the bed and out of Eggsy's vision. There's a brief pause, then the bed dips as he lies down behind Eggsy. He doesn't say anything as he moves in close enough so Eggsy can feel him against his back. He drapes his arm over Eggsy's side and Eggsy takes hold of his hand, lacing their fingers together right in front of his heart.

Harry kisses him just behind his ear. "Get some sleep," he says.

Eggsy nods and squeezes his eyes shut against the tears.

Now it's Harry's turn to make sure he's safe, to keep watch over him. Eggsy has seen enough today.


End file.
